


Pertaining To Happiness

by Aaron_The_8th_Demon



Series: A Combination Of Skill And Luck [7]
Category: Twin Peaks
Genre: Cracking open a coconut seriously does require the use of a crowbar a claw hammer and a power drill, Developing Relationship, Fluff, Ignores Season 3, Lodge dodge, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, SO MUCH FLUFF, They should just get to be cute together for once, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-31
Updated: 2020-03-31
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:07:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23412820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aaron_The_8th_Demon/pseuds/Aaron_The_8th_Demon
Summary: “Harry, I had a very vivid dream last night,” he begins, sitting opposite his friend.Harry immediately stiffens with fear. “Oh no. What?”“No, it was a good dream,” Dale promises, smiling and taking a sip from his own mug. “And incidentally seeing you in your current state my suspicions are confirmed that you’re in desperate need of a rest from your profession.”
Relationships: Dale Cooper/Harry Truman
Series: A Combination Of Skill And Luck [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1617793
Comments: 6
Kudos: 46





	Pertaining To Happiness

**Author's Note:**

> This fic happened because in March last year my boyfriend and I went to Florida to visit his mom for a week and I had a really good time there. So, it seemed like a good setting for some cute fluffy things with these two dorks.

Dale sits up straight in his bed and yells out “That’s perfect!” to his empty room the second he awakes.

As always, the solution is found in his dreams. He smiles to himself throughout his entire morning routine: shower, shave, dress, coffee. There’s no case for him currently, seeing how his previous one ended two days ago and he returned home only just last night, and accounting for the time zone changes he feels strange waking up at this hour even though it’s a perfectly reasonable 06:45 as he’s leaving his house. Despite the lack of a case, he’s wearing a suit, because whenever he’s  _ not _ dressed for work people in town still look at him strangely as if his being in ordinary pants and a plaid flannel shirt is a sign heralding the apocalypse. It’s been over a year and this is still a predictable reaction.

He eats breakfast at the Double R - a large omelet with exactly the right amount of onions, Canadian bacon, orange juice, more coffee - and leaves Norma his usual overly-generous tip before heading to the station.

“Morning, Lucy! Is Harry in yet?”

“Good morning, Agent Cooper. He’s here, but I think he’s having a nap on his desk before roll call because there was a huge brawl at the Roadhouse last night so he and Hawk and some other deputies were out until almost two in the morning getting that under control, and then after that he stayed for awhile to do paperwork, so he’s in his office but maybe you shouldn’t bother him yet because he’s very tired.”

“I’ll bring him some coffee,” Dale decides.

“Oh, that might be a good idea,” she agrees.

He goes into the kitchenette and pours two mugs, then enters Harry’s office. Harry is indeed at his desk, hunched over it with a pen in one hand scribbling lazily across a form and the other balled into a fist propping up his head. At precisely the moment Dale arrives, his eyes close and he falls forward, bouncing his face off the hard surface and immediately yelping in pain.

“God damn sunuva bitch!” Harry growls, rubbing his forehead and then his eyes.

“Good morning, Harry. Would you like some coffee?”

Harry’s eyes find him, looking as though through a deep fog. “Coop? Hi. Uh. Yeah. Coffee’d be great.”

Dale sets the first mug in front of him. “Harry, I had a very vivid dream last night,” he begins, sitting opposite his friend.

Harry immediately stiffens with fear. “Oh no. What?”

“No, it was a good dream,” Dale promises, smiling and taking a sip from his own mug. “And incidentally seeing you in your current state my suspicions are confirmed that you’re in desperate need of a rest from your profession.”

Harry shakes his head and blinks several times. “What?”

“You require some type of vacation, Harry. In fact I drew the conclusion several months ago that you’re long overdue.”

Exhaustion plays stares with Dale from behind Harry’s expression and the prior sentiment is repeated. “What?”

“Harry, last night I dreamed very distinctly of the two of us on a beach.”

“Okay. Why?”

“Well, because you need a vacation and so do I. It’s been some time since I’ve had the privilege of enjoying subtropical temperatures and if I’m not mistaken, which I only rarely am, you’ve never experienced anything like it before at all.”

“Uh. Yeah. Okay, Coop.” Harry nods blankly and downs the rest of his coffee all at once.

Clearly, the time has arrived for him to be blunt. “Harry I’m going on vacation next month and you’re coming with me. This is not subject for debate. I demand that you take time off from work and do something relaxing such as sitting on a beach with me in Florida.”

Harry blinks heavily again and nods. “Okay. Sure. Uh. When?”

Apparently he’s too tired to argue; Dale had been expecting at least some amount of protest in favor of Harry’s responsibility to the town, but there’s none. It seems likely there’ll be a less agreeable discussion in the near future once Harry has his bearings back.

“Next month. I already put in for eight days with the Bureau and Gordon approved it just last week, if you like I can inform Lucy and have her put it on your calendar.”

“Okay. Sounds good.” Harry rubs his eyes for almost a solid thirty seconds. “Time is it? Did I miss roll call?”

Dale checks his watch. “No, you have five more minutes. Would you like some more coffee?”

“Yeah. That’d be great.”

He picks up the empty mug and leaves to refill it. Returning to the office, Dale finds Harry leaning forward onto his desk with his head perched on top of his folded arms. Dale sets down the mug and rests a palm on Harry’s shoulder.

“I have your coffee, Harry.”

It takes entirely too long for a muffled “Thanks.” to come from somewhere deep in those tan sleeves.

Dale nods to himself and leaves Harry’s office, closing the door behind him. “Lucy has Hawk come in yet?”

“He just got here, he’s in the conference room hogging all the jelly donuts for himself.”

_ Like hell, _ Dale thinks, allowing himself a brief moment of spite in the privacy of his mind and also going into the conference room. “Hawk! Drop at least one of those pastries at once.”

Hawk looks over his shoulder. “Are you pulling rank on me, Cooper?”

“Absolutely. Surrender the donut this instant.”

This earns him a grudgingly amused smirk and a powdered-sugar jelly donut is passed along to him. Dale takes a bite and returns to the task he originally set out to accomplish.

“Hawk, Harry is currently incapacitated by an acute lack of adequate sleep. Will you please conduct roll call for the station this morning?”

“Sure thing, Cooper. See if you can’t get him to go home for today, I went home after we got done wrangling those bikers but he would’ve stayed here until at least three thirty doing his damn paperwork.”

“Consider it done,” he promises, then turns and heads back to Harry’s office with his prize.

Harry flinches a little at the noise of the door opening. “Huh?”

Dale gently closes it again and approaches the desk. “It’s alright, Harry. Just sit for a few minutes,” he murmurs, reaching over and lightly flattening down some of those dark, fluffy curls. They’re so fluffy, in fact, that they immediately spring back up again, undeterred. “Everything is under control.”

The slightest nod. “Okay.”

Dale smiles and waits until he’s sure his friend is dozing, then silently steps over to the door and flicks off the light before sitting on the other side of the desk to enjoy his donut in peace. Dale wishes very strongly that Harry would take better care of himself - he’s nowhere near young enough to get away with showing up to work on only three and a half hours of sleep.  _ Well, a vacation will do him a considerable favor, _ he decides, as if he needs to convince himself further that this is an appropriate and productive decision. Tragically, there’s nobody else to look after Harry and force him to make healthier lifestyle choices… Dale does what he can, but on average he’s away for two to five weeks at a time and even when he’s home in Twin Peaks he doesn’t see Harry every day so his ability to interfere is limited at best.

Dale sits long past the point where he’s finished his donut and coffee, relaxing in the chair and watching Harry sleep with overwhelming fondness. To the untrained observer, Harry likely appears average and possibly boring - or even worse, slightly tragic, given the alcohol problem he has that isn’t especially well-hidden and the fact that he’ll be turning forty four years old soon and isn’t married. Dale knows better. Harry’s much smarter than he seems at first, almost always patient, unusually open-minded towards strange investigational methods, and he’s very kind. Dale’s long accepted the fact that he’s undeniably and hopelessly in love with this wonderful man, and currently his aim is to excavate those good qualities. Harry tends slightly towards introversion at times and hasn’t been close to anyone since Josie died last year, and Dale wants to help him find his way out of his shell again. He wants to see Harry happy and thriving.

Nearly an hour after Dale commandeered a jelly donut from Hawk, Harry starts twitching and eventually raises his head. He looks at Dale’s wrist first. “Oh, shit!”

“Harry, relax,” Dale insists, darting out a hand to grab his shoulder and hold him still. “Hawk took roll. You’re clocking out and going home to get some sleep. This isn’t optional. I’ll be driving you so that you don’t get into an accident on the road. This is also not optional.”

Harry shakes his head. “No, I have to work-”

“They can handle themselves for one day. Let’s go, Sheriff.”

“I have paperwork…”

“It’ll wait.” Dale stands up and carefully pulls Harry after him. “Come on, Harry.”

Harry gives him a lovably pathetic expression as a final means of protest, but finally allows himself to be led out of the station. They get into his car and Dale pulls away from the station to head in almost the exact opposite of the direction he normally leaves from because Harry’s house is on the other side of just-outside-town from his.

“Weren’t we going somewhere?” Harry wonders, punctuating the question with a yawn.

“No, not today. Three weeks from now. We’ll fly to Florida for four days and return to Washington state with glorious, crispy sunburns,” Dale grins.

“I don’t wanna be crispy, Coop.”

“I was making an attempt at a joke.”

“Oh. Don’t make jokes, Coop. It’s confusing.”

Dale chuckles. “Alright, I promise I won’t cause any further disruption with my ineffective sense of humor.”

* * *

After some further discussion and a little coaxing, they are now meeting at Dale’s house at an extremely unreasonable hour to leave for their flight.

“You’re dragging me along, so you’re driving,” Harry says through a very large yawn.

“Alright,” Dale agrees before finishing his fourth cup of coffee in half an hour.

Their things are loaded into the back of his car and they climb in. Harry is immediately playing with the dial for his radio while unenthusiastically eating - of all things - an egg salad sandwich for breakfast.

“So… what’s flying like?” Harry asks a few minutes into the drive to Seattle.

“Harry, there’s nothing quite like it. At points there’s an endless blanket of clouds below the window, they look like a mass of cotton balls were pulled apart and then mashed together into a sheet… when there aren’t clouds, the earth almost doesn’t look real. It’s like a painting or a drawing, there are no dimensions to anything below you, just flat colors. The first time I flew, I found it to be rather spectacular.”

“I’ve never been on a plane.”

“It’s generally extremely boring and uneventful. I’ll usually spend the majority of the flight meditating or going through a briefing on the case I’ll be working several dozen times. By this point in my life I’ve lost track of how many times I’ve had to fly somewhere.”

Harry takes a bite of his sandwich. “What hotel will we be at?”

“We won’t, I’m borrowing a beach house from some friends. Considerably cheaper and more private, not to mention convenient… we’ll be a hundred yards from the ocean.”

“Oh.”

“They won’t be there with us, it’s not their full-time residence. There’s a key hidden on the premises that I’ve been informed of.”

“Are these good friends of yours?”

“Yes, I went to school with David. He and his boyfriend own this house… I’m not entirely sure how they accomplished that, Florida is far from the most accepting environment.”

Harry looks mildly surprised, but no negative emotions surface in his demeanor. “Uh. Okay.” He clears his throat. “You have a lot of gay friends, Coop?”

“No… in general I didn’t have many friends in school, I was strange as a child.”

“Good thing that changed once you grew up, huh?” Harry teases.

Dale laughs and they banter back and forth for some amount of time. He’s had to make this drive many times since moving to Twin Peaks, and it’s considerably more pleasant with Harry in the seat on his right. He eventually forgets to be tired as anticipation overtakes him - he’ll be on a nice warm beach with Harry by tomorrow afternoon, which is the most pleasant thought he’s had all week. In point of fact he can’t think of a single person he’d rather be with.

“Something funny over there, Coop?”

Dale realizes he’s smiling for no reason. “Distracting thoughts.”

“Really.”

“Harry, I know I’m eccentric and incredibly odd, but please trust me when I say even my mind wanders at times.”

“Coop. The  _ only _ time I’ve seen you do this was when you were seeing Annie.”

“I suppose that’s true, isn’t it?”

“You wanna tell me her name?” Harry prods.

“Not at this time, no.”  _ There is no ‘her,’ _ Dale thinks to himself.  _ There’s only you, Harry. There’s only been you for almost a year now. _ “Eventually I may see fit to speak about this with you… at the moment, it’s simply too soon.”

“Okay, I won’t ask about it again unless you bring it up first,” Harry promises.

“Thank you, Harry. I appreciate it.”

* * *

There is an immediate problem when they arrive.

“Harry, don’t you own swimming trunks?” Dale demands as he inspects the contents of his friend’s suitcase.

“No.”

“Do you know how to swim?”

“Yeah.”

“Then why are you not currently in possession of trunks?”

“Because I don’t swim that often. Usually it happens when I fall out of a boat on Pearl Lake, Coop.”

“Unacceptable. We’ll need to acquire a pair for you immediately.”

Harry is very clearly trying not to laugh at his distress. “I have shorts, Dale. I’ll just wear those.”

Dale can’t help some amount of exasperation and allows a groan to escape. “You need trunks, Harry, believe me. Wearing clothing that isn’t intended for swimming to a large body of saltwater isn’t something I can recommend.”

“Okay… it’s the middle of the night, there isn’t gonna be any place open to go buying stuff right now,” Harry points out.

Dale nods after a moment’s thought. “First thing tomorrow.”

“Okay.”

“I mean it, Harry. As soon as we’ve eaten.”

“Sure, Coop.”

Dale moves the suitcase off the bed and situates it by a wall. The guest room has two mattresses, one on either side in the corners. He doesn’t terribly mind this arrangement and changes into his pajamas without shame on his side of the room.

“Have you ever eaten a coconut, Harry?” he asks as he’s tying the drawstrings at his waist. He’s decided to forgo the top half and sleep only with his sleeveless undershirt due to the ambient temperature.

“Nope.”

“Excellent. We’ll have one tomorrow for breakfast and after that we’ll acquire swimwear for you.”

“You’re taking this way too seriously, Coop. I thought the point of a vacation is to relax.”

“It is. I’m incapable of relaxing until you’re properly equipped,” Dale answers, which draws a chuckle.

“If you say so.”

They take turns brushing their teeth and retire to their respective beds almost immediately following. After driving and then flying for so long, Dale has no trouble falling asleep and staying that way. When he wakes up he’s slightly irritated to discover that he slept until almost 10:30, but the feeling dissolves when he notes Harry sprawled across the bed on the other side of the room and snoring like a Sawzall. Dale catalogues this behavior - very likely Harry, when sleeping beside another person, hogs both the mattress and the blankets. He smiles thinking about the king size bed he has no reason for owning, because there’s no possible way Harry could take over that much surface area.

He silently disentangles himself from the sheets and light summer blanket, then changes into clothes he doesn’t often get to wear - shorts with cargo pockets on the legs, a battered t-shirt he’s owned since he was a freshman in college and is worn thin in all the right places, and his Philadelphia Flyers snapback. He elects to go barefoot for the time being and slips outside to the front yard where the coconut trees are. Three have conveniently fallen to the ground recently and he selects two of them, then recovers some of David’s tools from the closet by the kitchen. Opening a coconut requires a crowbar, a claw hammer, a power drill and a drinking glass. These are all brought outside to the driveway where his breakfast awaits.

Dale picks up the first coconut and pegs it onto the concrete as hard as he can several times in succession, then starts to tear open the outer sheath with the claw hammer. It’s frustrating work, just like he remembers, and in fifteen minutes he makes almost a negligible amount of progress. He removes the hammer and reaches for the crowbar, jamming the flat end between the hard and slightly less hard layers. When this yields no results he picks up the hammer again and begins pounding the crowbar further in.

“The hell’re you doing out here, Coop?”

Dale spares a moment to look over his shoulder at Harry, who’s dressed similarly but with no baseball cap.

“Preparing breakfast… would you like to help?”

“I’ll help by making coffee,” Harry decides, apparently not awake enough to appreciate the amount of manual labor that gets put into the opening of a coconut.

Dale eventually struggles the first one free of its outer sheath and sets it aside so he can begin opening the second one, but pauses when Harry reappears with a mug of joe for him. He takes a long sip and hums appreciatively.

“Thank you, Harry. That really hits the spot.” He sips again. “It’ll be sooner if you help me with this one.”

“Okay. What do I do?”

“Well…” Dale pegs the coconut onto the driveway with all his available strength, then retrieves it, and repeats this process three more times before driving the claw hammer into it. “The initial objective is to free the inner object from this outer layer. A classic example of ‘easier said than done,’ as it happens. So… I’ll attempt to make this gap as large as possible…” He twists the hammer around. “…and we’ll each grab a side and try to rip it apart.”

“Okideoke.” Harry watches him pound the crowbar in. “Is it worth all this effort?”

“Oh, absolutely. Fresh coconut meat is extremely tasty and satisfying.”

The tools are set aside and they each stuff their fingers under one side of the gash in the sheath. Dale waits until he’s sure they’ve both achieved an adequate grip before nodding, and at once they’re yanking backwards from each other in order to tear open the outer layer. It’s difficult and irritating work, but with the two of them wrestling it together it doesn’t take quite as long as when Dale was opening the first one himself.

The sheath finally rips and they both stagger backwards - Dale is left holding the coconut and lands very ungracefully on his rear end in the grass beside the pavement with a grunt. Climbing back to his feet, he’s able to strip off the remains of the sheath on his own.

“Tell me again this is worth the trouble, Coop.”

“It is,” Dale promises, nodding. He retrieves the power drill and the drinking glass, then sits cross-legged on the driveway. “The next steps are considerably easier.”

Harry also sits, settling approximately two feet from him while he bores holes through the three dark spots and pours the milk into the glass. He empties the second one as well and sets the glass aside.

“Harry, would you please pass the hammer over?”

“Sure.”

Dale sets down the first coconut and shatters it with a strong blow from the hammer, then collects all but the smallest shards and hands them to his friend. “Order up.”

Harry snorts, then selects one of the smaller pieces and hesitantly begins chewing the meat from the inside. Shortly following, delight unmistakably crosses his expression. He swallows. “Mm. Okay, Coop. You were right.”

“It’s been known to happen on occasion,” Dale grins before hitting his own coconut with the hammer.

They take their hard-won food inside to the kitchen and use metal spoons to remove the meat from the shells, sitting in companionable silence as they enjoy their breakfast. As they’re nearing the end of their coconuts, Harry begins to stare at him.

“What’s with the hat, Coop?”

“I like hockey, Harry. It’s not a very interesting story.”

“Excuse me for saying so, Dale, but coming from you I have a hard time believing that. I’ve never seen you wear that before but it’s beat up enough you must’ve had it for awhile.”

Dale smiles. “Very observant of you, Harry… alright. My father bought it for me when I was seventeen after we went to a game in person. Our seats were directly behind the Flyers’ bench and the game itself was absolutely spectacular. The snapback now serves as a reminder of some very pleasant memories.”

“See? That’s a great story, Coop. I’ve never been to a Seahawks game, it’s too far away.”

They discard the empty shells into the trash and put on their shoes, then take a cab to the nearest department store to buy Harry a pair of trunks. This turns into a minor ordeal - Harry is unexpectedly picky, which Dale finds somewhat amusing. While his friend searches for a suitable choice, he retrieves a bottle of sunscreen for them and pays for both items once Harry has finally made a selection.

“We’re not gonna have to go through all that trouble every morning we’re here, are we?” Harry questions once they’ve returned to the beach house.

“No, that won’t be necessary. Do you know how to cook, Harry?”

“Yeah… I can’t promise anything as good as the diner, but whatever I make is usually edible.”

“Excellent, I can’t cook at all,” Dale admits. “We’ll go to a grocery store this afternoon and purchase food for the next three days. For now, we’re going to go out and enjoy the sunshine.”

They change into their trunks and Dale makes his best effort not to become distracted while they apply sunscreen to themselves. Harry’s in very good shape; muscle is denser than fat, and Dale allows himself exactly ten seconds to imagine how that weight would feel pressing him into a mattress. Harry is solid and sturdy-looking, but he’s probably tender and unselfish in bed judging by his character. This is an excellent combination and Dale has to concentrate very hard not to break out in goosebumps just thinking about it.

Which makes for a strenuous exercise in self control: “Harry, will you please get my back?”

“Sure.”

Rough palms swipe across Dale’s skin. Harry, bless him, is unconcerned and almost professional about it, not making it into an ordeal. This is what saves Dale at the moment from any potential awkwardness. It’s not quite as difficult when he returns the favor, largely due to the fact that Harry is turned away and can’t see him. Now fully protected from being burned, they collect their towels and walk to the beach.

The sand here is fine, almost powdery, and very soft. The feel of it on the soles of his feet is comfortable and soothing. Dale deposits his towel in a random location and walks thigh-deep into the ocean without stopping, feeling the legs of his trunks immediately cling to his skin. When he turns and looks, Harry still stands on the beach, watching.

“What are you waiting for, Harry?” Dale calls.

“Isn’t it cold?”

“No, it’s very comfortable.”

Hesitant at first, Harry steps into the lapping water, then wades right over with surprise on his face. “It’s like bathwater…”

“Welcome to Florida, Harry.” They walk further out together until it’s up to their chests. Dale’s mildly tempted to start swimming, but for the moment he’s content to stand still and be where Harry is. “Do you believe me now that trunks are important to own?” he smiles.

“I can’t tell that much of a difference, Coop,” Harry shrugs.

Dale shakes his head. “You’ll notice once you’re back out of the water… a pair of shorts will become severely waterlogged and uncomfortable.”

A wave rolls through and momentarily knocks him off balance. Dale flails slightly with his arms, accidentally sending some amount of water right into Harry’s face. Harry shakes his head vigorously and spits while Dale reorients.

“Thanks for that…”

“Sorry, Harry, it wasn’t intentional.”

Harry wipes his face several times and moves back in the direction of the beach, then stares down at a point in the vicinity of his feet. “Hey, Coop, come look at this.”

“What is it?”

“Not sure, come look.”

Curious, Dale approaches. He’s so intent on finding whatever Harry’s discovered that he doesn’t see the ploy for what it is - as he approaches, one of Harry’s arms slaps hard across the surface of the water and sends a massive splash into his face and upper torso. Dale staggers back slightly, frantically trying to clear his eyes and spitting salt. When he can see again, Harry’s grinning at him.

“Now we’re even.”

_ If that’s how he wants to play it, _ Dale thinks, immediately splashing Harry back as forcefully as possible.

An all-out war proceeds, chasing each other back towards the beach and flinging water like children. Ultimately Harry stumbles, falling forward into Dale and toppling them both. For a moment they sit, water up to their necks and wiping their faces clear. Harry and Dale look at each other and immediately crack, bursting into laughter and unable to stand because of it. Underneath his amusement Dale feels exceptionally pleased with himself - Harry’s beginning to emerge from his shell at last.

* * *

Dale is engrossed despite himself, watching Harry get their dinner ready. The fish is seasoned and then put into the pan with oil, and shortly following the kitchen is filled with sizzling noises. Today is their second day on vacation and Dale’s already thoroughly convinced that Harry doesn’t appreciate his own skills - he’s an excellent cook.

“You wanna participate, Coop?”

“Alright, what would you like me to do?”

“There’s a couple lemons over there on the counter, cut them up into wedges.” Harry turns away from the frying pan briefly to stir the rice. “Not slices, though… you wanna be able to squeeze them over the fish.”

“Yes, I see.”

Dale selects a knife and begins cutting the citrus fruits. He finds it impressive that Harry can keep track of three different pans at once, one of many cooking tricks he’s never quite understood. There’s a very good reason Dale goes out to eat as often as he does.

“Y’know I can’t even remember the last time I did this,” Harry comments idly as he works his magic at the stove.

“Did what, Harry?”

“Made food for someone else. Josie never let me, whenever we ate together she always insisted on cooking for me… it’s kinda too bad. I like to cook.”

As much as Dale is still passively resentful towards Josie for all the pain she caused Harry, being compared to a romantic relationship makes him smile to himself. “Rest assured, Harry - I enjoy your cooking. I can only make sandwiches and cold cereal.”

“Yeah, you said.”

Dale arranges the lemon wedges on a small plate and silently enjoys the domesticity of the moment. He daydreams about this at times, ordinary tasks at home that he and Harry could accomplish together as part of a routine. It feels so natural. In this setting, the opposite corner of the country from where they live, Dale can very easily picture the small ins and outs and trappings if they were in a relationship, and he craves them. Basic, everyday intimacy. Closeness. Tiny insignificant details like watching each other’s favorite sports together or things like this, preparing and sharing a meal.

“What’re you thinking over there, Coop?”

“Hm?”

“You looked spaced out.”

“Oh… dreaming of things I desire that may never come to pass,” Dale answers wistfully. He smiles. “I won’t bore you with the intricacies.”

“You bombard me with info on everything else, what made you decide to start holding back now?” Harry snorts as he rearranges the fish in the pan using a spatula.

“Harry, I’m deeply and unmanageably in love with someone.”

“Yeah, I noticed. You wanna talk about it?”

“Only on the condition that you promise not to be surprised by anything I say.”

“…promise not to be surprised? What do you mean, Coop?”

“It’s fairly straightforward. Recall that the friends we’re borrowing this beach house from are two men in a relationship with each other.”

“Yeah, but why…” Dale watches Harry’s expression as he puts the pieces together without any further assistance. Harry clears his throat. “Okay. So… tell me about this guy.”

Dale smiles. “Thank you for not being surprised, Harry.”

“Uh. You’re welcome. Come on, who is it? Do I know him?”

“Yes. I can confidently say that you don’t give him or his talents nearly enough credit.”

Harry makes a face. “Why? Do I not like this guy? Y’know, if I don’t like him, then I gotta ask what you see in him just on principle.”

“You don’t dislike him.” Dale shakes his head. “He’s handsome and kind and I would even go so far as to describe him as ‘charming’ in several contexts. I admire his determination and work ethic.”

Harry, apparently lacking the level of self-awareness necessary to understand Dale’s description, smiles cluelessly at him. “Sounds like a good man.”

“Oh, he is. He’s one of the best men I know.”

“So correct me if I’m wrong, but it seems to me like this is the nice happy being in love and not the painful kind.”

“Without going into too much detail, yes. It’s a pleasant feeling, if often distracting.”

“Well that’s good. I’m happy for you, Coop.”

“Thank you, Harry.”

Dale settles himself at the table and watches as Harry turns off two of the burners - rice and steamed vegetables are spooned onto plates. The fish follows shortly after and Harry cracks a pair of beers for them as he sits across from Dale. There’s nothing particularly special or interesting about rice or steamed vegetables, so he eats those first before squeezing a lemon wedge over the fish. The first bite is exquisite and he makes an appreciative noise in the back of his throat.

“Absolute perfection,” Dale comments before taking another large bite.

“Thanks, Coop.”

He imagines how it would be to kiss Harry right now… both of them would taste like beer and excellent fried fish, probably still warm from spending all day in the sun. He smiles into his beer bottle before taking a sip. He’s only halfway through his first but Harry’s starting in on a third… Dale wonders if Harry’s even aware that he has an alcohol problem. This is far from an ideal time and place to discuss such a topic, so he dismisses those thoughts for the time being and returns to thinking sappy, romantic things.

Harry unexpectedly reaches across the table and for an extremely brief moment Dale believes the side of his face will be stroked. Instead Harry’s fingers brush along the brim of his snapback.

“There was some salt on your hat,” he explains.

“I see.” Dale’s skin tingles and Harry didn’t even touch him. By that logic, if Harry actually  _ does _ touch him, he’ll probably burst into a hundred pieces.

After dinner they take the box of beer out to the beach and sit in the sand to watch the sun go down. Harry’s had a total of six and a half by the time the stars are out.

“Coop.”

“Yes, Harry?”

“’M jealous.”

“Of what?”

“Bein’ in love looks so good on you. ’S not fair.”

“Harry…”

“No, it’s… ’s okay, ’m not mad or anythin’. Why’s it so easy f’r you? ’S never easy f’r me.”

Dale watches his friend lie back in the sand.

“Generally speaking, Harry, I find it less difficult if I don’t fight it,” he says.  _ I also find it less difficult to express myself because you’ve had three times as many beers as I have. _ “Love is often a journey in acceptance… you learn to accept first of all that you  _ are _ in love with this person. You start to accept that they have both good and bad qualities, and the minor bad things are possible to ignore. Ultimately if the relationship is successful you begin to accept some of your own shortcomings as well.”

“I always hated it,” Harry mumbles. “Just got me a world’a hurt. Every single time.”

“Are you also in love with someone, Harry?” Dale asks softly.

“Don’know. Maybe. I could be…”

“Alright. If you are, that’s the first thing you need to accept.”

“Maybe…” Harry looks up at him from the powdery sand and clumsily reaches over to grab his forearm. He appears to be getting mildly upset. “Dale…”

“Harry, it seems to me that we shouldn’t continue to discuss this while you’re intoxicated.” Dale doesn’t attempt to move his hand away.

“Yeah. You’re prob’ly right.”

“Would you like to keep looking at the stars or should we go back?”

Harry shakes his head. “Let’s just stay little more.”

“Alright.” Dale lies back as well and gazes into the night.

* * *

“How much milk?” Dale questions, staring at the bowl on the counter.

“I never measure, just eyeball it… here, start pouring, I’ll tell you when to stop. Just do it slowly.”

Dale does as he’s told and before the next step takes a sip of his coffee. “Alright, now what?”

A whisk is placed in his hand. “Stir. Uh, but not in circles. Kinda whip it back and forth like… I’ll show you.” Harry demonstrates briefly. “There. Do that for a little bit.”

While Dale mixes the eggs and the milk together, Harry retrieves a pan and a spatula.

“How do I know when it’s sufficiently blended?”

“That’s probably good. Okay, set that down a sec. Take this-” A can is handed to him. “-and spray the entire inside of the pan so that nothing’ll stick. Good. Alright, stick it on the stove and pour in the eggs.”

Dale is mildly nervous. “Harry I feel I should warn you that the last time I attempted to cook myself a meal was many years ago and I was very close to burning down my kitchen.”

“That’s okay, we got a fire extinguisher right over there. Now twist the knob to three and keep stirring it with the spatula until it turns into scrambled eggs.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it,” Harry confirms. “I’ll do the bacon right over here if you have any questions or concerns.”

Dale smiles and gives thumbs-up. “Perfect.”

Standing at the stove together, their shoulders bump occasionally. Dale works not to let it distract him and focuses as much of his attention as possible on the eggs in front of him. Harry, meanwhile, can cook bacon and toast bread at the same time. Dale forces himself not to watch and fixates on agitating the eggs with the spatula. It’s extremely satisfying when they begin to congeal, to clump together, because this is the only time Dale can remember handling a frying pan without a smoke detector frantically wailing at him from the ceiling.

The liquid eggs gradually transform into scrambled eggs. Once they’ve become a recognizable breakfast item, Dale turns off his burner and taps Harry’s shoulder.

“Looking good, Coop,” Harry smiles. “You have no excuse to spend all your money at the diner every morning, now.”

“I still will,” Dale assures him as he distributes the eggs evenly between two plates.

Harry finishes the bacon and butters the toast, and they sit down to eat with fresh mugs of coffee. Dale lightly salts his eggs and tries a bite of them… they’re perfectly edible.

“So?” Harry asks.

“This is a great success for me,” Dale grins. “Thank you for the practical instruction, Harry. I can now be considered reasonably competent at scrambling eggs.”

They eat companionably and as with the previous two mornings change immediately into their trunks and don sunscreen. Dale passes the bottle to Harry and faces away without comment, and shortly following there are hands moving across his back. It doesn’t feel comparable to the prior applications, however. Harry seems to be more attentive and thorough, essentially massaging his skin and musculature while distributing the protective lotion.

It takes too long and Dale is losing his ability to convince himself that this isn’t turning him on. His self-control is normally exceptional, but standing here with Harry’s strong hands on him while they both wear nothing but trunks is eroding his willpower with each passing second. His heart seems to be assailing the back of his ribs with all its might and he desperately wracks his memories for something adequately horrible in order to stop himself from getting an erection, which lands him on a train of thought pertaining to being pistol-whipped and held hostage at Dead Dog Farm last year.

“You okay, Coop? You got all tense there for a second,” Harry mumbles awkwardly from behind him.

“I’m alright,” he nods. “Please continue.”

“Uh. You’re all set.”

“Alright.” Curiously, the hands don’t move from his body. “Harry?”

“Dale…” Harry’s fingers tighten by the slightest possible degree and goosebumps erupt all across his skin. “…last night, when we were talking about…”

“Yes?” He forces his voice to remain steady.

“Say it’s not me.”

Dale freezes. “You’re asking me to lie in order to comfort you.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Then why would you choose, specifically, to say ‘say it’s not me’?”

A beat of silence. A pair of reasonably muscular arms slides around him and then Harry’s bare chest makes contact with his back. Dale forces himself not to shiver but can’t help closing his eyes when he feels Harry’s face against his head.

“I didn’t wanna get my hopes up,” Harry murmurs into his hair.

There’s no stopping the words from escaping. “Harry I’m in love with you.”

A rumbling chuckle. “Were you gonna explode if you held that in for one more second?”

“It’s entirely within the realm of possibility.” Dale breathes and leans back into Harry. “Please understand this isn’t a recent development by any means, and in fact I’ve spent entirely too much of my free time daydreaming about you.”

“All that spacing out was just for me?”

“Yes, it was.”

Harry is holding perfectly still, doing nothing to provoke him, yet even skin contact alone has him fighting back arousal.  _ God forbid I do something other than rush headlong into sex when beginning a new relationship, _ Dale thinks sarcastically to himself. Harry deserves better than that if nothing else.

Every thought jumps clear of his mind when those big, rough hands begin massaging his chest in the same manner as they did his back. Dale is helpless to contain a small groan and there’s no hope of concealment anymore - his light blue swim trunks have suddenly converted into an annoying trap that presses his cock into an uncomfortable and inconvenient location. Harry’s face still nuzzles the back of his head.

“You daydream about this, too?” Harry murmurs.

“Sometimes,” Dale breathes.

“I dreamed something like this the other night. Maybe your weird mental powers are rubbing off on me a little,” he chuckles. Harry shifts finally, resting his bristly chin on Dale’s shoulder. “Here, lemme get that for you.” Harry briefly adjusts Dale’s trunks so that the positioning of his erection is significantly less uncomfortable. The hand moves away again but doesn’t stray far, settling on his stomach two inches above his waistband. “Coop, I know you said something about underestimating my own skills, but here’s the thing: I can be kind of a dumbass sometimes. Turns out I’ve wanted you the whole time and didn’t realize it until yesterday when I was drunk.”

“It’s perfectly understandable, Harry, and you don’t need to apologize to me for it… incidentally, I was unaware that you were even interested in other men to begin with.”

“I’m not. I’m interested in you.”

“I see. The ideas aren’t mutually exclusive.”

“Guess not.” Harry lightly kisses the side of his neck. Fingertips brush the top of his trunks.

“Harry…”

“Tell me you want this.”

_ Yes, _ he thinks. “You don’t have to.”

“I want to. Do you want me to?”

God help him, they haven’t even kissed yet and Harry’s about to jerk him off. “Yes. Please.”

And that’s exactly what happens. Thankfully, nothing gets on his trunks, and as he wipes up the floor he’s considerably less distracted for the time being. They make the short journey to the beach afterwards and lie on their towels, close but not touching because there are people in the vicinity.

“Harry, I believe it would be a good idea for us to talk about this.”

“Yeah.”

“You’ve never been in a relationship with another man before.”

“No, I haven’t.”

“It proceeds in a nearly identical fashion to being in a relationship with a woman. I can assure you that you have nothing to be nervous about or afraid of.”

“Okay, I didn’t really think that I did.”

“Really, not even about sex?”

“I kinda figured you know what you’re doing and can teach me,” Harry grins.

Dale smiles back. “An accurate prediction on your part, yes. Would you like to discuss that now or should it wait until later?”

“No, now’s fine, I guess.”

“May I ask why you gave me a handjob in the living room?”

“You looked like you needed it. It was kinda impulsive of me.”

“Well, I appreciate it… you didn’t ask me to return the favor.”

Harry shrugs. “Y’know, a really long time ago when we barely knew each other yet you told me to get myself a present once per day. I figured I could give you that present today instead.”

Dale is overcome with the selflessness in that statement and is briefly unable to think of an adequate reply. Harry’s so sweet.

“Thank you for the gift, Harry.”

Harry snorts an almost-laugh. “You’re welcome, Coop.”

“Incidentally when I planned for us to go on vacation together this was not, in fact, the intended result. I failed to anticipate the beginning of a relationship as an outcome of this trip.”

Now, Harry laughs for real. “You can’t plan for everything, Dale. If it helps, I wasn’t expecting this either.”

“Yes, but you were also previously unaware of your romantic attraction towards me.”

“Yeah.” He nods. “Can I ask you something, Coop?”

“Please feel free.”

“When did you… know, exactly? Did it happen suddenly?”

“It occurred to me after I was shot.”

“Really.”

“Yes… when I came to in the hospital, the first thing that came into view was your face. In spite of the immense physical pain I was suffering at the time I felt extremely happy at that moment. It had a hand in my decision to ignore Doctor Hayward’s orders for me to hold still and recover, I became determined to show you in particular that I wasn’t incapacitated in order to keep you from worrying over my health.”

“And that made you figure it out?”

“Yes, in effect it did. Generally speaking I’m unconcerned with the opinions of others unless it directly affects my investigations, but I was interested in yours from the start. I’ve always had a great respect for you, Harry. Given a choice I wouldn’t choose anything besides you to be the first thing I see after a near-fatal injury.”

“Okay, well, please don’t have more of those.”

“I’ll make every effort.”

“It was a lot more sudden than that for me,” Harry admits. “You were sitting there and when I laid back all the stars were behind you, and I just thought ‘he’s in love with some guy who’s not me.’ It was kinda startling, I don’t even know where that came from. And then right after that I thought, ‘why isn’t it me?’ And I got even more jealous.”

Dale chuckles. “Well, Harry, it is you.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“It’s been you for a very long time.”

“Yeah.”

For a long moment they just look at each other and smile while they soak in the sunshine.

* * *

“You’re a mess,” Harry comments from somewhere above him.

“Yes,” Dale agrees blankly, not opening his eyes and relaxing deeper into the mattress.

“You want me to start the shower for you? Then the water’ll be nice and warm.”

“No… that’s not necessary. If you could please bring me a washcloth…”

“Sure.”

The weight distribution of the bed shifts as Harry gets off it and still Dale doesn’t open his eyes. He’s waiting for the endorphin flood to clear from his brain, and the small corner of it that’s still capable of rational thought is extremely pleased that Harry has turned out to be an extremely quick learner.

Footsteps approach and Dale expects the washcloth to be placed in his hand. It’s mildly surprising when this doesn’t occur and Harry sets out to accomplish the task himself of wiping Dale’s skin clean. Now he takes a moment to appreciate that his prior assessment was correct: Harry is a very giving lover, much more interested in Dale’s enjoyment than his own.

Harry disappears again for a brief moment, and on returning climbs back into bed and pulls Dale into his arms. Dale relaxes and allows this without protest. He likes to get snuggled after sex.

“Harry.”

“Yeah.”

“Thank you.”

A rumbling chuckle and a kiss to his temple. “You’re welcome.”

Dale somehow manages to completely miss the fact that he’s falling asleep and is surprised when he wakes up again approximately ninety minutes later. Harry is still wrapped around him from the side and he’s comfortable despite the heat, likely due to a lack of clothing that would otherwise insulate him.

“Harry, it occurs to me that given the fact we’ll be leaving tomorrow it would be foolish of us to spend the afternoon lying around in bed.”

“You’re the one who decided to take a nap,” Harry points out, not without humor.

“It was entirely accidental.” Dale rolls his head to the side and Harry kisses him, which was the intended result. “I would like to have a walk through the ocean with you.”

“Sounds good to me.”

They extricate themselves from the bed and don their swim trunks. In short order they’re wading into the sea side by side, skin greasy with sunscreen. Dale wears his Flyers cap to keep the sun out of his eyes, but Harry’s head is uncovered, leaving those glorious dark curls exposed for Dale to enjoy the look of. Realistically they’ll both require haircuts sometime in the near future. Perhaps, once they’re home in Twin Peaks two days from now, it’s something they can go out and have done together.

Nearly shoulder-deep in the water, they’re able to hold hands and nobody around will see. Harry arranges their fingers to link together.

“The last person I said ‘I love you’ to was Josie,” Harry says, very randomly and only after taking a deep breath.

“Oh?”

“Yeah. It’s not really something I say to people… mostly because I don’t usually have a reason to. I know sometimes people say it to their friends and they mean it different from how I did every time I said it. I don’t have a reason to think you’re gonna play games with me or anything, I just want you to know that if you don’t say it meaning it the same way as how I mean it, I’m gonna get real upset with you real quick.”

Dale nods. “No, I’m confident it translates directly and that I do mean it in an identical sense to how you do. I appreciate your honesty about your expectations, Harry. Thank you.”

“…you’re welcome.”

“I would never play games with you.”

“Yeah, I know. My last relationship was a disaster and I still have some scar tissue from it, I guess.”

“That’s perfectly understandable.”

“So you got any ‘expectations’ you wanna share, too?”

“Not particularly. I want to see you be happy. In general I hope to accomplish this by providing you with adequate attention and affection, and by doing nice things for you whenever it’s practical for me to do so.”

It’s a very inopportune moment for a particularly strong wave to pass through, knocking them both off their feet. Dale is fully plunged under the surface of the water and it takes a short moment for him to regain his bearings and return to a standing position. He coughs relentlessly for many seconds, and even when that subsides there’s still an extremely unpleasant sensation of water trapped deep inside his nose. Nearby, Harry is also hacking and sputtering.

Dale wipes his face with his palms and pushes back his hair… this leads him to realize something very troubling.

“Harry, can you see my hat anywhere?”

Harry wipes his sopping curls away from his forehead and glances around in several directions, then quickly strides over several feet and grabs the snapback. He pours the saltwater out of it and approaches in order to carefully place it back onto Dale’s head, adjusting it until it’s straight.

“You should wear it more often.”

“Alright, but why?”

“Because I like it on you,” Harry admits with a mildly embarrassed grin.

“Unless I’m dressed in my work clothes it often happens that my attire frightens people. They aren’t used to seeing me in anything but a suit and tie.”

“Well… wear it when you’re with me, then? Whenever there’s nobody else around.”

Dale smiles. “Alright, Harry, I should be able to accommodate you on at least a semi-regular basis.”

* * *

The flight back to Washington state is gruelingly long, and its effects are compounded by the twelve-hour drive from Seattle to Twin Peaks. On their return they’re so exhausted that they both fall onto Dale’s bed and pass out without tucking themselves in or even removing their shoes, and waking up the next morning they both suffer similar (if more mild) symptoms to a hangover.

“Harry, let’s go out for breakfast,” Dale suggests as he gets dressed.

“Okay… I have to go home first and change into my work clothes,” Harry groans, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands.

Dale places his palms on either side of Harry’s face and kisses him. Despite the exhaustion, he’s extremely happy this morning. They left on vacation as friends and returned as a couple, and even though that was never the intention he’s exceptionally pleased that it was the result. He loves Harry so much he couldn’t possibly put it into words if asked.

Once Harry is in the proper attire and his luggage has been deposited at his home, they go to the Double R for breakfast and coffee. While waiting for their orders, they covertly hold hands under the table… or so they think.

Shelly comes over to refill their coffee with a smile. “Morning, guys. I lost a bet with Norma today.”

“Gambling is always a risk, Shelly,” Dale points out.

“I didn’t even know Norma took bets,” Harry comments.

“She doesn’t usually, but we couldn’t resist…” She finishes pouring and leans in slightly, speaking softly. “Norma told me to tell you she thinks you’re a really handsome couple.”

Both of them are stunned into silence for some amount of time after that. It’s Harry who comes out of it first.

“How many other people do you think are taking bets on us?”

_ Entirely too many, _ Dale knows. “Harry, I won’t hazard a guess on this one, except to say that it’s extremely likely they’re far from the only ones.”

Harry shakes his head. “Is it really that obvious?”

“Apparently so.”

“If we don’t see at least a few pitchforks by the end of the day it just means they’re saving it up for tomorrow morning,” Harry mutters.

“It’s entirely possible that nothing will happen,” Dale argues.

In defiance of the potential rioting that Harry is concerned about, they pull their arms out from under the table and openly hold hands over breakfast. It won’t be secret for anything longer than a few more hours at most, so it doesn’t matter. And besides that, Dale just wants to hold hands with Harry. Angry reactions notwithstanding, he would like for people to see that they’re happy.

**Author's Note:**

> Why is Cooper a Flyers fan? Because I'm Canadian, so hockey. I have this headcanon for him that he's got a Flyers baseball cap but nobody ever sees it because it can't be worn with a suit. If you've read my other stuff you'll know this isn't the first time the hat has made an appearance :D
> 
> When I wrote Cooper's description of being in a plane to Harry, I had to pretty much take every feeling I have about planes and invert them. I fucking hate flying so much.
> 
> All my Twin Peaks fics can be found [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works?utf8=%E2%9C%93&commit=Sort+and+Filter&work_search%5Bsort_column%5D=revised_at&include_work_search%5Brelationship_ids%5D%5B%5D=127943&work_search%5Bother_tag_names%5D=&work_search%5Bexcluded_tag_names%5D=&work_search%5Bcrossover%5D=&work_search%5Bcomplete%5D=&work_search%5Bwords_from%5D=&work_search%5Bwords_to%5D=&work_search%5Bdate_from%5D=&work_search%5Bdate_to%5D=&work_search%5Bquery%5D=&work_search%5Blanguage_id%5D=&user_id=Aaron_The_8th_Demon).
> 
> Comments are welcomed and encouraged :)


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